


Expulsion

by IMPULSE_IMPULSES



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 03:27:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8430052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IMPULSE_IMPULSES/pseuds/IMPULSE_IMPULSES
Summary: A short work about Keith getting kicked out of the Garrison. I do this in hopes that they'll elaborate in canon. Enjoy.





	

"Keith Kogane, you're needed in the office, please."

The instructor had stopped him in the hallway, her blue eyes serious and cold. It was almost like she was glaring at him, which Keith was used to. But something else swam behind her gaze. Sympathy? No, that couldn't have been it. 

Keith shrugged her off and continued his trudge down the hall. "I've got class." He said. Normally this wouldn't have mattered, in fact he had been planning on skipping, but he was desperate to get out of whatever new punishment they had devised. Cleaning bathrooms, writing lines, detention, he'd done them all. Keith was sure they were running out of ideas when it came to him. Perhaps this time they had some sort of medieval torture planned out. Regardless, he wanted nothing to do with it. 

"Now," the instructor said, her voice steely. "That's an order, Mr. Kogane."   
Keith bit back a retort, something detailing exactly what he thought of her order. He instead settled for sighing heavily and heading down to the office. "Let's get this over with." He muttered once he was out of earshot. 

The office door needed to be oiled. The creak that rang out when he opened it was so loud it was almost comical. Mostly it annoyed Keith, much like everything in this fucking building. He pushed his bangs out of his eyes and sat down. He knew the drill. 

Iverson sat at his chair, looking less pissed off and more regretful than usual. A large folder lay on his desk. "Mr. Kogane," he began. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you what is contained within this folder."  
"Refresh my memory." Keith said, as politely as he could muster, which wasn't saying much.   
Iverson's expression took on a slightly more angry look. "This is a record of your time here, and with it is also a record of every single rule breach you've committed."  
Keith leaned forward and picked it up, flipping to the first page. All it contained was his information. His name and age and whatnot. But as he continued to thumb through the pages, he noticed the reports detailing his past transgressions. Being off-campus after hours, smuggling food, being rude to teachers, the list went on and on, in bolded type, no less. Keith whistled. "Surprised this place can afford a typewriter." He quipped. 

Iverson ignored him. "I'm also sure I don't need to tell you what this means." Keith glanced up, closing the folder, and awaiting whatever punishment Iverson was about to dole out. 

"I regret to inform you that we have elected to expel you from our program."

It took a while to register. When it did, Keith actually laughed aloud. A dry, humourless laugh. "I'm sorry, you're expelling me? And where exactly am I supposed to go? Both of my parents are dead. I have no family, no legal guardian to return to. I've got a fucking shack in the middle of the desert."  
"We are well aware of your situation, Mr. Kogane," Iverson said stiffly. "But your repeated infractions have led to pressures from the ministry, and they cannot continue to fund your education here if you treat it with such callousness."

"Cause your program is bullshit!" Keith cried, feeling a lump forming in his throat. "Nobody learns anything here. They're just put through the simulator over and over and never told how to improve!" 

"Enough!" Iverson yelled. "My decision is final. I don't like it, but there's nothing else I can do. Go and pack your things. In forty-eight hours, you will be escorted off the premises." He turned to the brunette standing next to him. "Ruth, please go and let Lance McClain know he will be joining the fighter pilots at the start of next term." The head instructor turned his attention back to Keith. "I'm sorry, Keith."  
"No you're not." Keith grumbled, slamming the door on his way out. Sure, he hated the place, how it operated, how it taught. But he had lived there for almost six years. 

He made it back to his dorm and began shoving his stuff in a bag, his jacket, his knife, a few extra shirts. Guess he had plenty of time to think about the dumb shack. Whatever. He'd had practice dealing with solitude. He'd find some way to keep himself busy. 

The next forty-eight hours would be hell, he knew. The waiting. But at least now he didn't have to pretend to try.


End file.
